A Rocky Tradition
by planetcleer
Summary: 'Nother Kink Meme prompt fill along the lines of: Dwarves have a tradition of giving rocks to those they're courting, which was cool in Erebor when they dug up all these weird wonderful stones all the time. Now all they've got on the surface is lame ones... Que a lovesick Dwarf giving a very confused Bilbo some pebbles. Here there be Boffins.


**Here I am, with another prompt fill... -has no original ideas-**

**This is from the kink meme again: "So it turns out that Dwarfs are sort of like that one type of penguin, and they give each other rocks as a means of courtship.**

**This is all well and good when you're living underground in a giant mine designed to dig up weird and wonderful stones, but it gets a bit difficult when you're up on the surface. You have your smooth rocks and your pointy rocks, and if you're really lucky maybe even a rock with a spot or a slightly different sort of rock sticking out of it, but nothing that really makes a _statement_.**

**But unfortunately for our lovesick hero, this is one of Dwarf-kinds most cherished traditions (and old as balls, you know?).**

**Que a Dwarf (or two Dwarves or all the Dwarves) giving pebbles to a very confused Hobbit."**

**So here we are.**

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Basically, there's a tradition of sorts in Dwarven culture. Well, alright, there are _many _traditions, but there's one particular one that some races may consider to be a bit… Strange.

Firstly, you should know that there are many things one does while courting another, like braiding hair, cleaning weapons, offering them something of great importance to you, et cetera… But these are all pretty strict to Dwarven culture only. You won't see an Elf wiping the blood off of another's bow and arrows to say 'I like you', right? Right.

So it isn't exactly favorable to be courting someone of another race who hasn't the faintest idea of how your courting customs go. Especially when the person you've set your sights on is oblivious little Bilbo Baggins.

Hair braiding won't work, as his hair is far too short and curly to keep one for longer than half an hour, and his weapon doesn't actually see battle enough to get bloody. Bofur's tried to give him his hat before, too, because the poor thing always seems to be getting cold, but it isn't like Bilbo really knows what that means (he just smiles brightly at Bofur, like he's made his day, and tugs it on, blushing when it slips down over his eyes. It's entirely too big for his head, but Bilbo puts it on every time it's offered, anyway, and dear Aulë, he looks _so adorable it hurts)._

The only thing left that Bofur can think of is that strange, yet cherished little courting tradition they've got… Giving the object of your affections a rock.

Now that was all well and good back in the day when they lived in Erebor and there were beautiful, twinkling, colorful gemstones galore hidden back in the mines, everything from alexandrite to emeralds to red diamonds readily available, but up on the surface? Yeah, no. Not nearly as great a selection.

He spends every free moment he's got after the mountain troll ordeal looking for a suitable rock to give Bilbo, but it doesn't seem to be working. There's jagged, cutting rocks and smooth, skipping rocks, rocks with layers and rocks all one color, rusty rocks and dirty rocks, bumpy rocks and shiny rocks, rocks that look like a bunch all got smashed together and rocks that have funny shapes in them, but it all lacks the right amount of _umph_.

There's a period of time where he's stopped looking all together, just doesn't think of it because of all the adventure happening, and then it seems as if Bilbo Baggins has taken off and abandoned them, which leaves an empty feeling in his chest, to be honest. But as soon as their (read: his) little burglar steps out from behind the trees, the empty feeling goes away, he kicks himself for possibly missing a great pick in Goblin Town, and resolves to start looking for a good stone again… As soon as the whole thing with Azog is over, anyhow.

It isn't until a few days later that he tells himself to stop being so damn picky and just use the next remotely attractive stone he finds, which just happens to be either grainy and layered and five different shades of red or smooth and shiny and an iridescent-black color.

After an hour's worth of consideration, he decides on both and happily (read: nervously) waits until they stop to rest for the night.

When he's done gathering firewood, Bofur catches Bilbo's arm as the Hobbit trots past to grab his cloak from his bedroll, "Have ye got a minute or two, Master Baggins?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Bilbo immediately stops in his tracks, turning to Bofur and flashing him a gentle smile, "What is it?"

Before he can even think about explaining himself, Bofur pulls him away from the fire and the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the company. When they're far enough away, he takes the younger's hand and presses the two rocks into his palm with a bashful grin, "I, uh, I wanted to give ye those, if ye don't mind?"

Bilbo glances down and wrinkles his brow in confusion, running his thumb over the smooth, shimmer-y one before glancing up at the Dwarf, "Oh, well, thank you for the, uh… Rocks?"

"Er, yes, those would be rocks," Bofur nods awkwardly and shuffles his feet a bit, looking from the rocks to Bilbo's face and back again once or twice, "Aulë, Bilbo, it's-y'see, I'm tryin' to-" He's blushing now, feeling all flustered and embarrassed and all from just a silly hobbit (read: the most important person in his life). Groaning, he shakes his head and finally just blurts, "I'm courtin' ye!"

It's Bilbo's turn to go red, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as his hold tightens on the stones, "You're… You're courting _me_?"

"In Dwarven culture, we've got this tradition, old as balls, it is, where ye give the person ye want to court a stone…" Bofur pauses then and takes his hat off, twirling it nervously in his hands, "This was when we lived at the Lonely Mountain and we had all kinds of pretty things to give, but now… Now we don't. And, er, well, I tried to find the next best thing for ye, because I… I like ye, Bilbo. And I was wonderin' if maybe I could court ye."

Bilbo's silent for a long, long time, long enough that Bofur is positive he's about to be rejected until the burglar's face breaks into a big grin and he's suddenly being pulled into a tight, warming, butterfly-inducing hug, "Yes, yes, Bofur, I-I like you, too. I'd be very, _very_ happy if you started courting me… Though you might have to teach me how it works with Dwarves first."

"Aye, that I'll do," Bofur lets out a happy, ringing laugh and has to hold himself back from twirling Bilbo in the air, squeezing him once before he pulls away to kiss his cheek, "Bilbo Baggins, ye have no idea how happy ye made me."

As a big, furry hat slips over his eyes and a warm, brown cloak his pulled over his shoulders, Bilbo finds himself with the most genuine smile he's ever, well, smiled stretched across his face, nearly ear to ear, "Actually, Bofur, I think I have a clue."

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**Obviously, by now you know I do prompt fills. Not just for Boffins, either. I do Thilbo Bagginshield and Durincest, too! Come at me, bro~**


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